


In Together, Out Together

by LT_Aldo_Raine



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Bill has a lot of thoughts, Canon Era, Episode: s01e06 Bastogne, M/M, World War II, buddy fic, but can be read as pre-slash? maybe?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 05:44:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11525751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LT_Aldo_Raine/pseuds/LT_Aldo_Raine
Summary: Joe had been there with Bill from the start, had helped him get through his Toccoa days when all Bill wanted to do was shove his boot up Sobel's ass and catch a Greyhound back home. So, when Joe got hit, ole Gonorrhea didn't hesitate to jump out of his foxhole and dart towards Joe's voice. Only, then, Bill got hit, too.OR: "Ain't that the way it goes, Joe? We came into this damn war togetha, now we go out togetha, too, huh, pal?"





	In Together, Out Together

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short little something that popped into my head. 
> 
> As always, no disrespect is meant to the real-life heroes of Easy Company!

It was no secret to the men of Easy Company that Bill Guarnere and Babe Heffron were pals. A couple'a loud-mouthed boys from South Philly, the two got along real good. Bill even went so far as to take Babe under his wing, so to speak, and make the other men of Easy stop lookin' at Heffron like just another replacement.

Bill, he saved my life, swear to God,” Babe would tell anybody who would listen. “The other replacements, well, nobody wanted to get to know 'em, 'cause they was probably gonna die soon. But Bill, he got me in with the other guys, ya know? After that, everybody had my back, and I made it through.”

It was also common knowledge that Bill and Babe buddied up with Ralph Spina, another Philly boy and the only medic aside from Doc Roe that Easy trusted.

But people often forget how close Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye were.

Although Toye wasn't from Philly, he was from the Burgh, so when he and Bill met for the first time back at basic, he might as well have been family. See, though Babe and Spina had the sounds of home with those rough Philadelphia accents and the loud, constant chatter, Joe had been there with Bill from the start, had helped Bill get through his Toccoa days when all Bill wanted to do was shove his boot up Sobel's ass and catch a Greyhound back home.

And when they'd landed in Normandy during Operation Overlord and the 506th had been scattered all across fucking France, Bill and Joe had found each other and stomped their way back to Easy. They'd been in this thing together from the beginning.

Whenever Bill and Joe got separated for any length of time, Bill got antsy. Like that time Bill got injured and didn't hook back up with Easy until they were back in England getting ready for their next jump. Or that time Joe got peppered out on the line in Bastogne and had spent a few days at the aid station that Patton's men had established. Bill didn't like it—not one bit. The way he saw it, it was bad luck, him and Joe not doin' this thing together.

So, when Joe got hit with that kraut artillery and watched his leg get blown clear off and Bill had recognized the wailing voice, ole Gonorrhea didn't hesitate to tell Malarkey to stay put as he jumped out of his foxhole and darted towards Joe's voice.

He'll never forget it, the sight of Joe Toye crawling through the snow, a trail of blood and a twisted stump of a leg behind him. And when Bill had swooped to take Joe in his grip and started hauling him backwards, shells raining all around them, Bill knew that this was it, that his pal was done for. Buck Compton yelling in his ear to _hurry up and move, get to a foxhole, now_ , Bill thought to himself that it wasn't right. He and Joe had been at it together since the beginning, since Currahee and Sobel—it wasn't right for Joe to go out now and leave him here to fight this damn war without him.

Then, suddenly, Bill was flat on his back looking up at the naked branches of the tallest trees he'd ever seen and a sky so white that it blinded him. Blinking, he tried to ground himself, tried to feel the earth and snow beneath him, tried to listen for the sound of shelling and gunfire. But he couldn't. His gaze wouldn't focus, his hearing wouldn't return. He was totally fuckin' stunned.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled to himself, wondering if he was actually talking—when, abruptly, he was shifted and felt the world spin around him. As Joe came back into his line of sight, he realized that Doc Roe was there, tending to Joe, and that one of the guys had settled him back against a tree to hold him upright. “What the...?”

That's when he saw it. Or rather, the _lack_ of it. His fuckin' leg. It was gone. Just like Joe, _ha!_ He wondered why it didn't hurt. Wondered when the pain would hit. Then, a pair of medics with a stretcher were there to take him away, and as he went, he thought, _This is more like it,_ and made some crack to Joe about going home—because he and Joe were in this together, damnit _._ As the medics loaded Bill and Joe onto a Jeep to cart them off to the aid station, then some army hospital in France, before shipping 'em back Stateside, Bill turned to Joe, whose eyes were heavy and unfocused, and muttered, “Ain't that the way it goes, Joe? We came into this damn war togetha, now we go out togetha, too, huh, pal? Currahee, right?” 

And Joe, for all his pain and all of his shock, couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips as he responded automatically, “Three miles up,-”

Bill joined him, “- _three miles down_.”

Bill Guarnere and Babe Heffron would stay lifelong friends. Hell, they'd even write a book together about what happened to Easy during the war. But nothing would ever compare to the sacrifices that Bill and Joe made together that day. Nothing would stand up against a pair of brothers who sweated together at Toccoa in the Georgia heat, and froze together in the foxholes of Bastogne, and suffered together in a series of hospitals and aid stations across Europe.

Bill and Joe lost parts of themselves that day, but they gained something else in each other.

“Yeah, Joe,” Bill echoed with a wry grin unbefitting their current circumstance. “Three miles up, three miles down.” 

 

 


End file.
